Fantasy Football: Bane of my Kindness

I must admit... I secretly hope that some players get hurt during the football season. I just really want to win in Fantasy. Perhaps there is a deeper problem here.

I really like winning. I guess many people do, but mine is certainly to a fault. I just want to be the best albeit in Fantasy, Catan, or alligator wrestling. I demand recognition. Such things from which I need to repent.

Football players are people too. Those with whom I play Catan, I care about you. Alligators you're going down. Take that PETA.

To all those who have suffered my rudeness due to competition, I apologize. I'm working on it. I'm trying to let the Lord take this one. Please bear with me and poke me with a stick if my jerkiness reveals itself (I would much appreciate you not beat me with a stick... Thank you).

This is Tough

I have control issues. I want control of everything. Even as I write this, a friend of mine is having difficulty logging into the church system, and I decided that I could defeat the registration better than she could. I have problems. I'm learning in some pretty face-smashing ways that God is the only one who should have control. I mean... he already does. Just another area where I need to learn how to die. Dying... freaking sucks... So much harder than I ever thought it would be. But there's something so sweet about it.

Exhaustion

Exhausted, my heart caught in yank
Like a game of tug-a-war, it is torn in twain
Which path is right, which path is yours?
Forever I struggle to offer de jour

Issue after issue, concern after concern
Enamored, it finds a peculiar burn
Only filled by the One who desires my soul
It wanders to thoughts; oh, how they begin to roll

Are these of you? your plan? design?
Or are they my flesh and the serpent's malign?
Lord, guide me in your way, the one everlasting
And lay this weary heart beneath your glory to bask in

Turn around...

Lately, I've been allowed to think
Allowed to evaluate and review
Allowed to be myself; the one I was meant to be

I have thought about the past
I had forgotten my strength
My path was hazy and looked at with distaste
What could he possibly do
What a waste...
The thoughts of less faith

Turn around...
This love? This gift?
This is his; the way it will be used
Whether by art or science
It is my visions that bring fame
Not for the servant
But the professional

Tabula Rasa